Rokassa Juice
by Sparticus328
Summary: A busy day makes for a late lunch, and Julian Bashir just wants to relax. The crowded Replimat is not so obliging. An invitation. One quiet tailor's shop… And one glass of Rokassa juice… Warning: Slash-content.


**A/N: This was a tangent thought that flitted through my brain in the last couple weeks of January. Just a fluffy, plot-less piece to entertain. It falls no where in particular during the series. Warning: Contains slash-content.  
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**Disclaimer: All rights reserved by Paramount Pictures. All story and writing credits for the scripts are owed to their respective creators/writers.  
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* * *

Rokassa Juice

* * *

Julian nodded his greeting to a Bajoran couple he passed on the observation level of the Promenade. They hesitated, and Julian could read the intent for conversation in their posture.

Julian sighed inwardly and stopped, his eyes catching movement on the level below.

Garak was in his shop, still working, still so focused on his task.

The doctor had to keep himself from leaning on the rail to watch the older man at his duties. The attention to detail, the deft hands melding cloth or designing on his PADD...

A smile lifted his face as he listened to the couple. They thanked him yet again for helping their child... And he, yet again, shook their hands and told them it was a pleasure to see such a delightful little girl back to good health.

He peered through the rails to see Garak's shop empty. He would be late joining the tailor if he did not excuse himself.

He nodded to them both again and ducked into the upper level of Quark's. He took the steps quickly and met a rather solid stop at the bottom. Julian teetered back, settling on the stair behind him before recognizing his blockade.

"Morn…" Julian wiped at the spray of liquid covering his Starfleet uniform.

The big man gestured to the space around them by way of an apology. Indeed, Quark's was rather busy.

Julian accepted the hand up and crossed the bar as quickly as the crowded space would allow.

At the door, Julian saw the line for the Replimat and sank against the wall. And his heart sank. They would never get lunch at this rate…

"My dear Doctor, I wonder if you might enjoy eating in today?" Garak spoke at his shoulder.

Julian turned to the Cardassian. "I'd like that very much."

"Let's get out of this fray, then." Garak led the way back to the tailor shop.

Julian sat at the clothier's table in the back, waiting while Garak closed the shop for their meal.

"Does it seem bizarrely busy on the Promenade today?" The doctor got to his feet as Garak neared.

"Hmm. A bit more than usual, I think. Perhaps we are getting lunch later than normal?"

"Not that much later. Ten minutes? What difference could that make?"

Garak gestured toward the doors. "Apparently, it makes a considerable difference."

Julian walked with Garak to the small replicator at the wall.

"I'm afraid our options may be limited, Doctor. I don't often serve guests here, and reprogramming this replicator is rather low on the station's list of priorities."

"That's quite alright, Garak." Julian gave the replicator a simple request of Earl Gray tea and a small sandwich. It complied and presented a steaming cup and a plate of sandwich quarters. "Today, simple and uncomplicated sounds good."

"Have you lost your adventurous spirit, Doctor?" Garak made his own order. His fare was equally simple, though he opted for a glass of Rokassa juice instead of his usual red leaf tea.

"By no means. I've even got a holosuite reserved for this evening… you're welcome to join me."

"Hmm. I don't think so, Doctor. Your spy games are such a blaring diversion from the real thing, or so I understand. I find myself unqualified to play at your caliber."

"Nonsense..." Julian set his tray on the table. "You've got to do something with your free time..."

"Oh, don't worry about me. You've got your hands full, what with the well-being of every citizen on this station to look after… Don't let me add to that burden."

"It's no burden, Garak. I genuinely enjoy helping these people." Julian took a sip of tea, blowing at the liquid before taking the mug to his lips. "And I enjoy my time with you."

A familiar call chime sounded from the communications unit at the desk behind him.

"Oh, for God's sake…" Garak stood, apologizing to Julian. "Forgive me, Doctor. I wasn't expecting a call."

Julian waved off his apology. "Go ahead. I have time."

Garak moved off to accept the caller's message, bringing his glass with him.

"Lokar. What can I do for you?"

* * *

Garak tapped his hand against the desk, running circles on the surface with his fingertips. This was not what he hoped for when he invited Julian to lunch at the shop…

He peeked over at the doctor, masking his distraction from the caller on the view screen.

Julian stood with his tea, quietly wandering the shop. He looked at a couple of the display units, seeming to admire their attire like artwork. Garak swallowed, attempting to quell the feeling washing through his insides. Was this happiness? A kind of pleasure he didn't take much part in since his exile. And yet, with this human doctor Garak felt more peace than he had in a long time…

"Am I boring you, Garak?"

The Cardassian returned his eyes to the screen.

"Lokar, I am sympathetic to your concerns. Believe me. Though, I have… a guest at the moment. I'm sure you can understand."

The man on the view-screen coughed. "Certainly. I am sorry to have interrupted."

The Cardassian's ridged brow rose at the implication. "Well, if you'll excuse me…"

"Of course, of course…" the screen went black.

* * *

"Garak, tell me… What was your inspiration for this?" Julian's voice pulled the Cardassian to stand beside the doctor.

Garak considered the outfit, the relaxed lines of the suit were a shadow of the man at his side. The tailor turned, waiting until Julian's eyes met his. "My dear Doctor."

Julian stared into the blue depths, feeling like he had at their first meeting. A nervous energy bubbled inside him, and he felt as though he didn't know what to do with himself. He fidgeted, turning his empty mug in his hands. "Should I be flattered, Garak?"

Garak set his glass down, a knowing smile growing on his face.

The tailor took the suit from the display, gently laying it out on the clothier's table. Garak made deliberate motions to straighten the fabric, to lay it out just so…

"Of course..." Garak ran a hand down the table at the edge of a sleeve. "You are welcome to try it on."

Julian took a step closer to the table, his eyes fixed to the expression on the tailor's face. That face, that considered focus… the one he had observed from the upper level of the Promenade…

Julian's breath caught. He rested his hand on the table, his curiosity in the suit lost. "Garak…"

The tailor turned, his hand sweeping the top of the table, catching his half-full glass. He caught it, but the contents upset in Julian's face.

The doctor flinched back as the liquid splashed over him. A gentle hand met his elbow, catching his displaced balance. Julian's long fingers caught around the Cardassian's sleeve, gripping until he was sure of his footing.

Julian opened his eyes slowly, feeling the sticky, sweet rivulets of the dark amber juice running down his face.

Soft brown eyes met crystal blue, a ridged face leaning close… closer than necessary…

Garak's cheek brushed the doctor's, a warm, moist tongue peeking out to trail along the high arch of the cheekbone.

"Mmm… God, you taste good."

The Cardassian's breath cooled the dripping juice on that side of the doctor's face, sending shivers through him.

A gray hand met a clothed shoulder, the opposite hand reaching out to claim the doctor's smooth jaw. Julian's hand rose, gripping at the cooler one on his arm.

"We mustn't waste it…"

Garak's artful tongue painted hotly along the human's nose, the curve of his lip…

And Julian stopped breathing.

Garak pulled back, staring at the young doctor. His eyes watched curiously as Julian reclaimed air, convulsively swallowing and gasping.

A warm tremor coursed through the Cardassian. Desire… To cause such a reaction again, to escalate it…

Garak's brow ridge rose, his head tilting slightly. And he watched a droplet of the dark juice fall over the edge of Julian's jaw, dipping beneath the high collar of his uniform.

His hands framed the doctor's thin face, his thumbs tucking beneath the collar to chase the berry nectar. He tugged once, separating the collar. The fabric split effortlessly, running a part down Julian's chest. He pressed his open mouth against the glistening path left by the juice, sucking at the moisture. Over the angular jaw, along the exposed throat, and on… The hollow at the base of the neck, the faint rise of chest…

Julian's head rolled back, the back of his hand pressed to his lips, gasping for air.

"Ga… Garak…" Julian's voice wheezed out between stuttering breaths.

And teeth grazed across his nipple. The flat of Garak's tongue followed in an open mouthed caress of the area.

Julian cried out, a wordless exclaim muted by his hand.

Garak took the mug hanging from Julian's weakening grasp and set it on the clothier's table with the remnants of their abandoned lunch.

Garak heard the doctor issue a desperate whine at his absence. He returned, his hands caressing the soft tones of flesh at Julian's sides. The fingertips of his right hand met the doctor's jaw. Julian's clenched eyes opened at the contact.

"You must tell me… Julian, if you don't want this… You must tell me to stop."

Julian frowned deeply, his hands grabbing at Garak's tunic. "I thought you to be more aware than that… Elim."

The doctor took his turn to map the contours and ridges of the Cardassian's face with his mouth.

He pulled back, his fingertips tracing the soft curve of the gray mouth. He slowly leaned forward, finally setting his lips to those opposite, slightly parted. They moved together, deepening the kiss. Their hands battled, linking fingers on one side… searching on the other…

Julian struggled with the heavier material of the Cardassian's covering, pulling at the joining with one hand, gradually parting the cloth.

Julian shrugged off the shoulders of his uniform, baring his smooth torso to the Cardassian's wandering hand. Warm hands ventured to pry the cloth from the broader body of his counterpart.

Garak peered at the closed door. Closed, but not secured against entry…

The doctor leaned away, teasing kisses at the older man's mouth.

Garak followed, guiding the backward steps of the doctor. They fell behind the drawn curtain of one of the changing stalls.

Julian's back met the far wall. He sagged against it, grateful for the support. His head tipped back, tapping the solid panelling. Delicate hands moved over his body, loosening the uniform. The same hands smoothed down the legs of his trousers, pinching tenderly at the wrinkles of fabric around his knees.

He complied, lifting each leg in turn to free them of the uniform. The article crumpled to the floor at his feet, only to be kicked aside, under the bench to his left.

Garak breathed, content to look over the younger man. He shrugged off his tunic, reaching over Julian's shoulder to hang the shirt on a hook out of the way.

The doctor pushed away from the wall, toward the Cardassian. His hands found purchase in the waistband of the trousers. He tugged apart the closure, freeing the defined ridges at the hips. His fingers pushed at the material… one side, then the other…

Garak held his arms around the doctor, leaning into him as his pants were shifted from his body.

Soft hands ran lines across his ridges… all of his ridges…

His breathing caught and hitched with each movement… anticipation …and the very fact that each touch stole his air away.

A warm hand found his cheek. A soft caress, fingertips lilting the soft ridge extending from his ear… It was a question.

Garak pried his eyes open, hardly noticing that he had closed them under the ministrations of the doctor. He found warm brown irises watching him, concerned.

He kissed at the mouth that puckered a frown, coaxing a smile to curve the pliant lips.

Julian let the trousers fall the rest of the way without his help. The sounds issued by the tailor with each motion burned through him… A need.

He leaned back, his skin resting against the partition, once again at the mercy of the tailor's wandering mouth.

As Julian had touched at Garak's relaxed definitions, Garak marked a path over Julian's lean contours…

Garak's smooth palms ghosted over the warm flesh, a brush on silk… He left no visible mark, but the doctor felt the cool trail of hands, his skin trembling in wait… in want… Only to cry and gasp when the touch was followed by a moist embrace of lips or tongue.

Lower, the mapping ventured… A name slipped from lips… And again… Movements coupled, exchanging… Dark toned hands threaded into black Cardassian locks… Gray fingers grasped at narrow hips…

Julian reclaimed one hand, silencing the sounds of his efforts.

Garak's claiming hands circled his hips, curving around behind… Possessing.

Julian's fingers curled, grasping… his breathing escaped the confines of his warding hand… moaning, unintelligible shouts…

Garak shifted, angling them near the bench. He lay Julian against the surface, lifting his hips to slide beneath him… resting his aft on his thighs.

Garak leaned forward between the doctor's knees… He mouthed at the warm skin, the abdomen, the chest… Wherever he could reach. With each movement, Julian braced his arms against the wall.

* * *

The tailor rested his cheek to the doctor's warm chest, the thundering of Julian's heart had slowed to the sedate canter it usually paced at.

The human's hands wandered the ridges of the Cardassian's face, smoothing away the beads of sweat that cooled in the air. He held his hand in place, warming the area.

He sat up gently, upsetting the man atop him. He kissed at the disapproving scowl until it smoothed into reluctant compliance.

Garak unwillingly held himself up, wanting instead to be ensconced by Julian's warmth.

"We do have to get back to work..."

But Garak laced himself around his doctor, burrowing against him. "I'm calling a sick-day."

Julian chucked. "What's my excuse?"

"You're seeing to one of your patients..." Garak tipped his chin up, his tongue tasting at a spot below the doctor's ear. "Mmm… you taste of Rokassa juice."

Julian settled his hand at the Cardassian's forehead, smoothing back the rumpled hair. He rolled his eyes and considered playfully, "I wonder where that came from."

A cheeky grin spread over the tailor's face. "I'm not apologizing. It was you or the suit. And I have spent several hours on that design."

"You spent a lot of time on all of your designs… This… is no different."

Garak sat up, exchanging a long look with the doctor. "This is no game, my dear Doctor... For quite a while, you have held my particular interest."

* * *

**A/N: A comment on the use of the name "Lokar" for Garak's caller... - It hadn't been my intention, but that name also appears in Andrew Robinson's "A Stitch in Time" novel for the Garak character he played in the series. I wrote it without even recognizing that's where my brain pulled the name from.**

**Many thanks to my beta and friend, KoraM852, for the final read through and always giving me your tireless support. Gameson221b, you asked about writing...this is what I have for the moment. "Madness" is waking up - I hope to have something out for it soon!**

**I hope you all enjoyed it! Please do let me know what you think. I love to hear from my readers!**


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